Blogarithms

As I was waking Sunday afternoon, I could hear rain pouring outside. By the time I got downstairs, snow was falling as steady huge flakes. I drove right out of that before five minutes were up, and all was clear the rest of the trip to The Gazette.

As we expected, about 6 p.m. the snowfall had arrived in the parking lot. It must be the kid in all of us, but the snowfall brought lots of excitement. I’ve never had much trouble getting home (about 34 miles from our back door), but on this night as I started to leave at about 11 p.m., one of our photographers was giving me warnings.

He said he heard on the scanner that U.S. 321 was closed at Hardin Road, and I had to pass that very spot. It isn’t that I didn’t believe him, I just can’t accept my inability to get home from anywhere at anytime. Going home is one of my favorite things. Call it stubborn.

My worry started before the Hardin Road exit. It was as I hit the end of the off ramp of I-85 to U.S. 321 that a little dashboard light came on warning, LOW FUEL. Wouldn’t you know it, the gas stations I was counting on didn’t have electricity. No power. No lights. No gas. I couldn’t turn around.

So, I said a prayer and kept going. What usually is a 40 minute trip would take two hours. I’m cautious in the snow. I passed many vehicles off the side of the road. I saw rear-wheel-drive automobiles fighting road conditions. They appeared to be losing the battle.

Then came the Hardin Road exit. I was coming up on a vehicle with flashing blue lights. The only stopped vehicles weren’t in the lane I was travelling. They were in the southbound lanes — miles of stopped vehicles burning their headlights as far as I could see. My path was clear, at least as long as I still had fuel.

Lights were visible as I neared the Lincolnton exit. That had to mean electricity, lights and gas. I veered off to the right into the exit behind several vehicles. The snow was deep and wet. A red sports car halfway up the exit was spinning and sliding.

My next prayer — please don’t make me have to stop. To my misfortune, I had to stop, which made me the next car in a spin. OK, here was the plan. I was going to roll up paper in little logs, put them in front and behind my wheels, roll back and forth on them until they gave me traction, and drive right on out of there. I reached in the back seat then opened the driver’s side door only to be startled to see a dark figure standing at my door.

He said, “Mam, if you’ll straighten your wheels, we’re going to push you out of this.” Thank you. I don’t know who those fellows were, but bless their hearts. I bet they get that kindness paid back tenfold.

I was able to fill my tank, get back on U.S. 321 and zip right home on well-scraped roads while the mantra echoed in my head, there’s no place like home.

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